Two Worlds Apart
by Sparrow-of-Chaos
Summary: Original AU. Gar, angry at his father, destroys a machine that sends him to alternate histories. Now the boy who can't save himself must help a girl sentenced to die for her mother's actions, and himself through the darkest of human actions and events.
1. Anger

Author's Notes: My first atempt at Sci-fi. Well I know I made Gar's family different that what it really is, and other things but I wanted to show the characters in different lights. Also, I like the originality of it.  
Please Review so I will know if people will want to read this.

Full Summary: Gar in a fit of rage at the man for ruing his and his siblings lives destorys his drunk of a father's latest invention, sending him to alternate histories. Now the boy who can't save himself must help a pretty girl sentenced to die for her mother's actions and himself through the darkest of human actions and events.(Cheesy, but the story is solid. Just hard to explain. There is killing and gore in later chapters.)

**_For Charley  
My good Sci-fi loving Friend._**

* * *

He sat on the edge of his pale green bedspread, blue eyes staring intently at the page but not seeing the words, blonde wavy hair winging out with a carelessness he only wished he had. 

He looked like a happy-go-lucky surfer boy. However, he was far from it, at the moment he had on a façade of reading a thick history novel when in fact he was listening to his parents fight for the fifth time that week. The ever so happy face he put on for school was gone, replaced by the look of someone who needs an escape. The smile could only stay up so long, fed by delusions of his teenage mind, but no amount of adolescent denial could hide the angry words coming from downstairs.

Garfield did not like the yelling, or the fact he had seen a few bruises on his mother and the marks from nails carved into his father's large arm, he tried his best to ignore that. Feigned ignorance of his family's condition helped get him through the day. He was careful to never invite anyone over and he had driven his friends away to make sure no one knew about his life.

The room, painted in pastel green with Jimmy Hendrix posters and ACDC album art on the thin walls did not block out much. His window was open allowed the sun to hit the flowering cactus on his windowsill and a soft breeze to cool the room. Memories of the family back when it was happy almost seemed to taunt him as the smell of a summer evening wound its way around him. Reminding him of camping trips and barbeques, movie nights and car trips, all lost to time. Sometimes the memories got so faint it was as if they were a different world altogether.

"Well maybe if you actually did your job and provided for this fucking family!" screamed the partially muted voice of his mother. The faint rumble of his father's voice was in articulate for ears far too used to tuning out the ever-increasing arguments.

His father's job, even he found that a joke, a basement inventor. All forty years of his life, Mark Logan had been trying to get his big break into the technology world. He claimed he wanted to help humankind, do some good in the world. Tinkering for hours in the spacious basement had not resulted in anything so far, but Mark Logan was a die-hard dreamer who had yet to give up. Well, Garfield thought, give up completely anyways; his pride would not let him, even though he had taken to drinking as of late to hide his failure from himself. Perhaps he thought he could drink the loss of his life away, or maybe he just did not care anymore.

If it had not been for his mother's job as a Chief Executive Officer of a large clothing company, they would be living on the streets or close to it. His father also did appliance repairs and carted away old broken ones to use as parts for his inventions.

The book fell to the floor on top of a faux leather coat he owned. Standing and stretching his five foot seven frame Garfield looked out the window and signed, wishing he could run away, leave the fighting and forget the past year and a half.

His girlfriend - ex-girlfriend now - had cheated on him and had gotten herself pregnant as a result. Garret, his oldest brother had been in rehab twice for cocaine and LSD abuse and now faced jail time for allegedly selling. Garret denied the allegations and was just in parole for possession, as there was no evidence to convict him. Garfield's other brother, Gerald, was in the hospital after being a accident while driving drunk, he had nearly killed a mother and her two daughters. He was looking at two years of physiotherapy just to walk again. Ginger, his only sister was living in Korea for two years after running away from home with her then-boyfriend and becoming a teacher.

No seventeen-year-old needs that to deal with. Not to mention he had no chance of college with his current grades. The yelling was escalating and he popped the screen out of his window and climbed out onto the roof. The air was still warm and he sat on the grey singled roof of his two-storey Ranch style house.

As he looked at the quiet neighbour hood, the setting sun warming his back he realized he was crying. Crying for the life he was supposed to have, crying for the loss of the lives of his siblings and his father. He was crying for the loss of his innocence.

Slowly the sun set as he remained at his perch for hours, leaving only to grab his coat to protect against the chill if he fell asleep up there as he often did. Sleep had half consumed him when he heard a car door close quietly. Careful not to make noise he scrambled to the high peak of the garage roof and peered over. It was his mother; Marie carried herself as if she had bruised ribs but still managed to lug a large suitcase to her car. When she opened the door and an interior light went off he saw she had a few more bags in the backseat.

It hit him fairly quick; she was leaving. For a few months now, she had threatened to do so, screaming the threat to Mark, but now Marie was leaving, and something told Garfield it was for good. Even lying there on the still warm rooftop, watching her, he could not deny the determination in his mother's movements. She was escaping this nightmare; sailing to better shores, leaving him to drown in the stormy waters.

It was at the moment the small faith he had that perhaps his family could making it through this bad streak okay and alright, was executed. He watched her get in and start the car, the headlights glare blinded him for a moments but as she backed out he was she was crying. Seeing her like that, letting the tears that had been burning his eyes fall freely.

"Don't leave mom," he said, "Please don't leave." The words were so lightly whispered that it was unlikely that someone sitting beside him could hear. Slowly the fresh tears falling from his eyes turned to angry thoughts. Thoughts that led to stupid decisions to throw your life away. Everything was quiet as he snuck back into his house. He looked around his room and found himself hating everything his run away mother, his failure, drunken father, his stupid brothers and sister.

However, most of his seething hatred was directed at his father, he had chased his mother away, he had disowned his daughter and ignored his sons to the point they acted out to gain attention. Garfield walked down the hall, past his parent's bedroom where he heard his father snoring drunkenly. Blinding rage hit Garfield as he peered in the door. He wanted nothing more that to kill that waste of a life.

As angry as he was, Garfield was not stupid, he knew he could not kill his father, not with the problems with a regular income they would soon have. He went down to the main floor and saw his mother had taken a lot of the pictures of her kids, a small thought of at least she felt bad for leaving them. Garret was fast asleep on the couch, a porno movie played on the television. Somehow Garret's sleeping for had rolled over on the remote, muting the black box.

Garfield looked at his brother, probably asleep in a reefer haze or some other drug trip and realized he was the only one who knew Marie had run away. He looked away from his brother, and ignored the sound of him sleeping and the hum of the TV.

A pale light issuing from the television screen illuminated the open door to the basement. With a slow determination that only comes from great disappointment, he walked down the stairs. He had been down there so much, listening to his father's newest ideas the light was not necessary. He closed the door and grabbed the wooden handrail, worn satin smooth by the many hands that had used it. A few stairs creaked but his brother slept like the dead, he did not have to worry about waking him up.

He turned on one light as he reached the basement, tools, and half-built contraption cast creepy shadows on the walls. A few beer bottles lay scattered on the ground. Garfield grabbed one and threw it against the wall, not surprisingly it shattered, glass showering the floor.

A glint on the table caught his eye and he saw three marbles sitting in an ashtray with a strip joint logo on the heavy glass. He picked them up and saw they were made from amethyst stone. A note scrawled in drunken handwriting sat beside them. Picking up the notebook, he saw it was filled with inventions. The last note seemed relevant to the large machine sitting in the center of the main room.

"April 8th 2006," Garfield read, "I have gotten the idea that will help me get out of my slump. I know what can help mankind; a time machine." He made a face; his father was a bigger fool than he thought. Quickly skimming the pages, glancing at the drawings and notes that blackened the pages, all on the machine. After reading some of tiny, cramped handwriting, he saw it was something his father was putting in a lot of effort. Even in the margins were little notes, most of then concerning Einstein's theory of the impossibility of Time Travel. In all honesty, it seemed plausible, if the reader were to forget how moronic the idea of time travel was. It was a good ninety pages of notes, dated from April last year to the current month of August.

When he got to the final note, He furrowed his brow as he reread the sentence, saying it aloud slowly. It seemed his father had gotten some results from the machine.

"Amethyst seems to be the only material that doesn't allow its structure to compromise when used in the machine. Testing has revealed they negate the side effects of time travel to a survivable point. Rat test proved the rat survived, as to if it jumped ahead in time is unclear."

Below that, he had written something even more cryptic.

"Anchor to the present time."

It seems his father was even testing the pile of metal trying to do the impossible. Garfield ripped the notebook in half at the anger to how much of a waste his father was. Reading had only made him even more pissed off at what his father was, and at how much he didn't care about his family's one way trip to hell. He kept the note about the amethyst as a bit of proof of his father's overwhelming stupidity and pocketed the marbles, thinking they would be good to throw at cars on the freeway.

A crowbar caught his eye and he picked up the metal object, swinging it through the air a few times. He took one look at the machine that had made his father waste months down here, while his sons destroyed their lives, while his wife decided to leave while his youngest child had spent the better part of the spring and summer on the roof crying and wishing he were dead.

In an instant, the crowbar had smashed the metal casing of the machine, the curve catching the sheeting and pulling it off. He just kept swinging, cursing his father. He did not stop when the machine sent out a strange purple spark, he just took it as a sign the machine was not completely destroyed. More than anything, he wanted to get rid of this, to show his father that his dream wasn't going to happen. Make the man realize he had failed and that no amount of alcohol could hide that from him.

Bits of metal flew everywhere, wire tore from the machine, screws and bolts were pulled loose and went flying to dark corners of the room. Months and months of work was destroyed. Glass shattered and he swung with such force that the pulling away brought metal with it to the point of him having to dodge out of the way.

One swing into a bunch of important looking wires sent an electrical shock down his arms. Everything flashed a combination of the entire spectrum of blues and a deep unearthly purple. There was the sound and feel of wind rushing by his ears and feeling of a nonexistent light behind his closed eyelids that was burning his retinas as he gave a strangled scream at the pain rushing through his limbs and torso. Finally, he blacked out, stopping the rushing moving feelings jolting his body, the deafening noise throbbing in his eardrums and the incredible, agonizing pain that swept through his anatomy.

---

The ground was hard against his back, even with his jacket and despite the near distracting pain in all his muscles and any other part of him with nerve endings, he could feel he had no broken bones. It was the scent of the place that told him he wasn't home, even before he opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a stone roof, and dim light from a barred window close to the strange ceiling. He didn't dare sit up as the movement of blinking hurt enough as it was.

"You're awake," a slightly rough female voice commented. It had the ring of something that had not been used in a long while. He sat up quickly and fell back with the resulting head rush. Before the throbbing pain had brought him to return to lying on his back, he saw he was in a cell and the voice belonged to a girl about his age who sat on a bench watching him.

"It would seem that way. Where am I…Hell?" he groaned as a fresh wave a pain accompanied his speaking. He cursed inwardly at the stupidity of beating an electrical device with a metal bar while it was plugged in.

"In a way, yes. You're actually in cell number three eighteen." Her voice was a monotone that seemed trained.

"Cell number eighteen…you mean prison?!" He sat up, ignoring the pain as he stood. Both knees and a shoulder popped. He winced and saw worry flash across her face before it turned to a mask of carefully practiced cold indifference.

"Yes prison. You were caught with out papers. That's against the law thus you are in a prison for people who broke the law," Her voice still a monotone, with the air of one explaining a simple thing to a child.

"Without papers…what? I was just in my basement!" he said, a confused look mirroring his thoughts. She looked at him. He took the moment of silence before she answered to quickly look her over.

Her hair was short and black. It hung right to her soft jaw line. Her clothes were plain tatters. Her petite form was covered by a shirt with a frayed hem and trousers with ripped knees that did not cover part of her claves or her pretty ankles. Her feet were bare and her skin had a paleness to it that said she had not seen sun in a while. He looked at her purple eyes that his head classified as the most gorgeous things he had ever seen, and saw a sadness that matched his own.

"You are an illegal refugee, and you are most likely going to die; deal with it. You have been here for about six hours," she said, her head went down and he saw she was reading a book. It was obvious she did not like him looking at her.

"Not a chance, I was in my father's basement, and I electrocuted myself, and now I wake up here. Am I dead?" he said, poking himself in the chest, despite the pain that was fading to a dull throb. She glanced up from her book.

"No," The look on her face was dark, "You wouldn't be talking to me if you were. Youa re going to die in all probability." He saw the look on her face and decided against asking her questions about her answer. He dusted off his jeans and readjusted his black t-shirt while thinking about the idea that he was going to die while having no idea where the hell he was.

"What about you? Why are you here? Where ever here is anyways." Settling in on the bench beside her, he held out his hand, "I'm Garfield Logan."

After a moments hesitation she shook it and answered his first question.

"My mother broke the law with the wrong person and I'm the result of it," seeing the confused look on his face she elaborated, "I was born of an adulterous relationship between my mother and one of the leaders son's during a time when he used to come to this horrible mess of a city. She told him and he called her a whore and had her arrested and killed. I was raised by a monk until I was old enough to face my trial, and then execution."

"Oh," that was all he think to could say. She looked at him for a long while. Judging him by his reaction, he guessed.

"Happy you asked?" Her voice was filled with an indifference that he knew was to tell him she didn't care what he said, he wondered for a split second if she believed that lie anymore than her did. He thought about her question for a moment and nodded.

"I am, but not at your plight. I wish I could do something but I wanted to know and I got my answer. I'm sorry about your mother," she looked surprised and muttered a thanks at his condolence. He scensed not many people had. "So your name is?" He asked, flashing a smile that could melt solid rock. She smiled softly back at him, and his mind stopped at how pretty she was.

"Rae…Venn." She seemed hesitant to tell him.

"Nice to meet you Rae, you can call me Gar. Now where on earth are we?"

"The Country of America, Post World War XI, year-eight." she said, quietly.

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Please, please review. Flame or trash, just let me know if this is worth continuing. 


	2. Fear

Author's Notes: Second chapter time. I explained the theroy on different timelines a bit better. Most of the "different" history is based on events in World War Two and the American Revolution. Review please.

**_To Charley,  
Happy Birthday._**

* * *

"Year…eight? Post World War eleven!" Garfield was having trouble breathing as he watched the world around him faded to white. It was like looking at a badly developed photograph, or being in a badly developed one that was spinning. The overwhelming urge to throw up hit him and it took a moment for him to regain control.

"Yeah, that is what I said? Why?" He was scaring her and in a way, himself. Repeatedly he told himself the machine could not have worked; this was probably the result of a few hundred brain cells dying from an electrical overdose. Still some part of him was telling him that his drunken father might have beaten the impossible.

"2007, I'm not in 2007 anymore!" he gasped, closing his eyes and praying this was a dream induced by the electrical shock. The bare walls began to spin again when he opened his eyes, the only way he could stop the sickening spinning was to look right into her violet eyes.

It struck him that he had never seen purple eyes before, but he personally noted he liked them they were pretty…in a unique way. The small part of his mind that was not in a full-blown panic realized this was the first person he had felt comfortable talking to in a really, really long time. He continued to take deep breathes and look around the room, the room was now spinning slow enough that he was not going to vomit.

"What are you talking about; 2007?" She seemed concerned about his panic attack and was holding him steady. Her nails dug into the material of his coat as her eyes met his, fear clearly expressed. They sat there while he tried to focus his thoughts, which at the moment were running around in a panic a few notches above cramming for final exam twelve minutes before the test.

"The...year where I'm supposed to be…" How far into the future did that piece of carp send me?" he groaned, great, now he had destroyed the machine and sent himself go knows how far into the cold unyielding future. He stopped his train of thought, there was no possible way he was in the future, time travel was impossible. You cannot break the curvature of time, the only thing possible idea that could ever be achieved is to finally see around the endless curve, but then you would only be looking at the future, not actually be physically there.

"Garfield…umm, Gar, I am confused. I thought you were just a refugee," she said, he noticed her curiosity matched his when he had asked her for the reason of her imprisonment. Withholding a sigh, he told his story, right from April of last year. Tear sprang to his eyes, but Rae mercifully said nothing and pretended not to notice. He had never been more grateful for feigned ignorance.

She looked at him for a moment once he was one, it had taken a good twenty minutes to tell her and it was getting dark outside. The only light came from an odd-looking light coming through a tiny hole in the solid door. The dim light cast distorted shadows on the walls; she watched their figures for a moment, contemplating what he had told her.

"I'm sorry…for you," she said, he voice quiet, losing the practised coldness it had held for the most of their conversation.

"Hey Rae, shouldn't the world be destroyed, I mean back in where I should be, and probably am -given that this HAS to be a really bad dream- the hydrogen bomb was a factor in why a third world war never started…at least not yet and…I mean if there has be nine more world wars…everything should be dead and in the mist of a never ending nuclear winter…" he stopped and prayed on some off chance he had made sense.

"The hydrogen bomb…I have never heard of that. Albert Einstein himself, blew up any plans or diagrams about the Atom bomb, if that what you are referring to. The fourth of August…1939 I believe, before we started the different ways of counting the years.

He killed so many people, any scientists who knew anything about the bomb. After that, I think activists against the bomb took over the governments. There are still bombs, like one ton warheads, but nothing of the magnitude that was destroyed." She spoke as if the history disturbed her. Anyone would be disturbed at the idea of one of the most brilliant scientist killing himself, even if he did save so many lives.

Garfield just gaped at her, -history was his best subject, he by far excelled- this was the most insane thing he had ever heard. His overworked mind turning over the thought that Albert Einstein a suicide bomber on Germany? His mind whirled, if the date Rae had said was true then he had murdered all those people two days after he had written a letter to Roosevelt advising him on the dangers of the atom bomb the Germany was developing.

"What about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki on August sixth and August ninth, 1945?" he said, his voice quiet. Those were the most famous attacks on Japan ever recorded; there was no way he was wrong about that.

"What bombings?" she said, clearly confused. He noticed she had a habit of looking away from him and he realized how close that had been sitting. Rae seemed to have trouble with people being close to her so he slid away.

"The bombings that ending the Second World War. The United States bombed Japan, which ended the war. Sixty-two years later there are still complications from the bombs!" he said, his voice rising. "The only time the atom bomb has been used on humans…?" He tried, hoping it might help, even though he realized that he might be the incorrect one.

Her face remained confused. Garfield was close to crying. He took a few steadying breaths. Both lapsed into silence that was less than comfortable. He was sure Rae thought he was insane, he, himself was beginning to doubt his sanity.

Slowly he tried to remember anything that could prove he was not crazy. Hours upon hour of thinking yielded nothing. After a while, Rae began reading her book, and the silence became heavy, broken only by the flick of a turning page.

Glancing over her shoulder as she read, he saw there was a time line diagram across the pages. It appeared to be a history book.

"History?" He asked trying to kill the suffocating silence.

"Yes," she said, "a brief history of what you claimed had an atom bomb attack on humans…World War Two." He voice was deadpan and it seemed like she was slightly disgusted by what she was reading. Anyone would be, if the events she believed happened were anything like his.

"World War Two. I loved the unit we did on that in school. Well, the history of my World War…" She looked at him out of the corner of her large eyes.

"Your World War?" she smirked, amused by his mocking of his version of events, so drastically different from hers. He gave her his three hundred watt smile back.

"Yes, My World War." He put on a fake posh accent and puffed out his chest, causing her to giggle softly. His smile faded like rice paper in the rain as his already tweaked mind went into overdrive.

In an instant, he remembered something a sub-teacher had told him during a history class, not to long ago. He had stayed after to catch up on some work he had missed while camping with his now deceased aunt and uncle.

There were theories about there being alternate time lines, that began at points in history, the differed at one moment. There were an infinite number of streams. The teacher had explained it by flipping a coin and placing it in Garfield's hands; he told the eager student that another stream had the coin flips result as the opposite of what occurred. Head instead of tails, and vice versa.

After that class, he had often thought of the theory at random times, but he had not ever really considered it an actual possibility. Now he was living it, or so it seemed.

He stood and went over to a corner and sat down, resting his head on his bent knees. She disappeared from view as his vision turned to the dark ground, framed by his jean-clad legs.

Time trickled by as he pondered the more intricate details of the theory. He doubted it was just that one thing, Albert Einstein killing people, which was different, or had caused the whole change.

History was made up of many events, the teacher had told him, hundreds of small decisions made from small decisions. Perhaps they weren't small at the time, but small compared to history itself. If one decision were changed then other decisions would change in a domino-stylized effect, different influences would create differences in the time lines.

All through the silence he had to force himself to take steady, even breaths, lest he hyperventilate and pass out. He held his breath for a moment and heard soft breathing from her, Rae had fallen asleep. He glanced up still not breathing; her head was tilted down, her short hair forming a curtain, blocking her pale face from view.

Chest hurting, Garfield let out a slow breath, and leaned against the cement wall, he was tired, not just from the electrical shock but from the mental fatigue. Slowly opening his eyes became a chore, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep. Odd dreams about monkeys with kites that were bombs and books with teeth haunted him and he ended up with little rest.

---

"Nnng…" Movement woke him up. Judging from the light it was well past noon, but in the tiny, dingy cell, no one could be sure. Soon wonderings of how long he had been there and how long he would stay in this place surfaced. Rae jumped at footsteps outside the door.

"Gar, shhh, let them think we're asleep," she whispered, her hair was lank and she seemed scared out of her mind. He was quiet long after the footsteps left, dragging with them the horrified shrieks of another prisoner.

"I am assuming, my friend, that those are the people who are going to do rather horrible things to us?" he said, indifferent. She nodded and he fell silent. His stomach rumbled and Rae just looked at him and his surprise at the volume.

"Hungry?" He nodded, "You won't get food until later, sorry…friend," she looked sadly as the screams from other people dimly echoed. He looked at her, she had used the word friend, hesitantly but she had said it. He reasoned he was probably the first person she had even become close to friends with in a long time.

"Here, I have something for you," He stood and walked over to her. Reaching around her slim neck and unclasping a small silver chain she wore he stepped back. He had noticed the plain jewellery the night before and had just gotten an idea.

"What are you doing? My mother gave that to me!" She glared at him for taking what remained of her mother.

He smiled and pulled an object out of his pocket. It was the marble he had taken from his father, one that had a hole all the way through it because of the normal texture of amethyst. Threading the chain trough the hole he handed it back to her.

"Here, now you have something from me and your mother," he placed it back on her as she felt the small stone with her slender fingers. Words seemed to finally elude her for once. He smiled at the grateful look in her eyes.

"Thanks…" she jumped as the door scraped open. Garfield, still slightly bent over her, turned fast and nearly fell over while correcting his posture. The figure was a man dressed in jeans and T-shirt. He tossed in two roughly made sandwiches.

"Thank you...?" Garfield said, bending to pick up the food.

"Shut up. We will be returning for you shortly, both of you," He snarled, looking at Rae with a sour glance. She tried to make herself smaller on the bench and cowered.

The man left and Garfield handed her a sandwich. She ate in small bites and kept glancing at the door. He could smell fear on her, that light acrid scent people give off when they begin to sweat, he realized it wasn't just her, he was scared as well, but she seemed to know what was going to happen, he was blissfully ignorant.

"Rae, it's going to be okay," It had been about half an hour and he had forced down the revolting sandwich, gagging on the wilted lettuce and less that remotely fresh tomatoes. Rae just looked at him, her eyes wide with fear.

"You don't know what they are going to do to us; everyone gets the same punishment…" Her pupils were non-existent and she was breathing heavily, in irregular gasps.

"We'll be together," he said, not knowing if that would comfort her. He felt dizzy and his muscles were tense, and he could feel what seemed like small electrical jolts. He wondered if he was scared or this was still an after effect of being zapped senseless by a machine.

Rae seemed to double over in pain just as a horrible jolt racked his body. He stumbled forward as his vision went black for a moment and caught her as she slumped off the bench.

"Rae!" he said, as the door slid open, this time guards. He felt rough hands on his shoulders, as another jolt went through him, Rae twitched and she was picked up roughly. Garfield began to fight, wanting to help her.

Another shock hit his muscles and tissue and he spasmed in the gaurds arms, they dropped him and gave a shout. The ground hurt, but not as much as the electrical feeling pain going through his limbs.

"What's going on?" One yelled. Gar reached out and grabbed Rae's handed in his own, her palms were sweaty and cold, she was sufferring from violent spasms too.

The last thing he felt was her hand squeezing his, then blackness.

* * *

Review please, I've never written sci-fi before this and would like feedback. 


	3. Hate

Author's notes: Well it's been a few months and I figured I had better overdose on Star Wars again and write another chapter.  
This following "Time Stream" contains some gore and a lot of Nazi/Hitler references, so if for any reason you are bothered, please, just click back.

**_For Charley.  
I hope your toilet stops flooding._**

* * *

Once again, he opened his eyes, feeling hard ground beneath him and pain numbing most thoughts. Limbs feeling like lead and his chest unbearably tight, too familiar by this point.

He remembered a time when Gerald had thrown him in a pool with two cinderblocks tied to his feet. The dull ache from the pressure was identical in his ear and the faint panic at not being able to breathe was less intense than the memory, but was but still there.

His eyes shot open to blinding light when he remembered what had happened before blackness had consumed him. The guards, the cell, the different history, Rae, everything hit him in a vomit-inducing head rush. He gagged but managed to stop a heave and losing his lunch all over himself.

No hands grabbed at him, no shouts. A bird chirped from near his head and he jumped and nearly wet himself in fright. He pulled up in shock, his abdominal muscles protesting with burning ferocity. The forward movement forced him to sit up, his hands over his stomach. His eyes watered with the muscle cramps and now centred pain.

It was just as before and a sinking, chocking feeling in his gut told him it had happened again, now he was even father away from home. Judging by the quiet, he was alone. At least last time he had had someone to talk to.

The memory of her convulsing on the floor beside him jolted his mind. He looked around, not thinking she would be there, but unable to control the action.

"Rae!" His voice was hoarse and sounded like his throat was coated in sand. It felt the same as well and the sticky feeling served as a reminder not to hit machines with live current in them with crowbars.

The girl lay a foot away from him, on her stomach. Her hair covered her face and she wasn't moving. Moving faster than his injuries normally would have if he hadn't be consumed by fear laced adrenaline he fell beside her, pick her up and checking for breathing. Her body felt limp and heavy, and he pulled her to her knees, calling her name

"Rae…can you hear me?" He was panicking at this point, his own breathing shallow and quick. He shook her and her eyes fluttered open and she grimaced. He held her just above the elbows and made sure she was staying awake.

She suddenly leaned backward and pulled her head to the side, pulling Garfield forward and threw up, just beside her left leg. He held her up and she dry heaved her way back to normal breathing. He scooted them away from the puddle and looked her in the eyes, hoping she was all right.

"Garfield…are we dead?" She asked in that quiet tone she had that read like neon Vegas signs that she knew her fate and was resigned to it. He wondered for a moment how much hate had been thrown at her to have her so accepting about her fate in that cell.

"No, thank whatever…I think what happened to me…may have happened to both of us," He murmured, holding her close, relief intoxicating him. His vision blurred with the joy of still having her close and not being alone.

"What!" She gave a yelp and pushed away, her face contorting with pain. Garfield withheld a grimace at her shove and sighed. His chest burned where she had pushed, it felt like his sternum was on fire.

"I didn't think it through, I was a bit busy panicking about you," he snapped. His expression softened as he saw the hurt in her eyes that faded back into her cool, practiced control and indifference. "I'm sorry, it's just that shove really hurt, and I don't understand a lot of what is going on.'

"It's alright," She mumbled, her face cracking it's mask and a small smile showing through coupled with confusion. She grabbed his hand and stood, both their knees popping, both their voices beginning to lose the roughness, except for Raven's natural gravel to her voice.

"Let's go find out where and when we are," He stretched, despite the still throbbing but dulling pain in his body. Dusting themselves off they began to walk. Rae looking around her, he mouth slightly open. They were in a glade or field of some sort, but she looked at it as if it were another world, alien in some way. To her it probably was, he thought with some sadness, she had been locked up her whole life.

The tress thinned out and they came to a town. Houses, not exactly modern came into view. They looked to be from about World War one; everything had a dull grey tone to it.

No one was around. It freaked Garfield out, sending cold slivers of fear into his spine, but he just held Rae's hand, watching her gaze around, absorbing a world she had been denied for her whole life. The thought of people seemed to make anywhere less unnerving so he walked in the direction of the taller heart-of-the-city buildings.

They came to the town centre; where there were quite a few people milling about. All dressed in clothes reminiscent of 1933; caps and suspenders and the like. Garfield took a deep breath, steadying his confused mind and racing heartbeat trying to take all the information he could in order to figure out where they were.

Someone was yelling taking the lead; he dragged Rae forward into a crowd of people. Mothers held their children close into their skirts. Everyone stood silent, save for a few people whispering, looking at someone in the centre of the intersection. There seemed to be very few younger men in their twenties and thirties and boys in their late teens in the crowd.

Beside them stood a man, in brown pants and a grey business shirt. He held his hat in his hand and watched with a sad interest. His shoulders sagged in defeat of a man who has seen too much in his life. Like a war veteran.

"Sir," Garfield whispered, touching his arm, the man jumped. He looked around, as if hoping the pair was addressing someone else. Quickly he glanced back in the direction of the yelling then answered.

"Yes?" he said his voice quiet. He looked down at the two teens, gazing at their radically different clothing. Garfield absently pulled Rae closer and took a deep breath.

"Where are we?" The question would have sounded strange to anyone and the man's looks of nervousness

betrayed that fact. There were street signs about and Garfield guessed that he simply looked like a moronic or impudent boy.

"On the corner of Main and Westfield," He replied, looking about again.

"No I mean the date, year, country," Garfield realised how bad what he was saying was. No wonder the man looked a bit uneasy. He took a step back and looked at them.

"Its October, 1939, the United States," The man said, and turned away. Giving the pair one seemingly final odd look. He had spoken fast, trying to end the conversation, if his body language had not given that away already.

"1939, we're at the start of World War Two!" Garfield yelled his face paling. He looked at Rae who simply gave him a look that said for him to not yell so loud. The few people who had looked turned their attention back to the person yelling in the street at the centre of the crowd.

"The start of World War Two, are you touched boy? This is no world war, this is between us and those Nazi and British scum across seas who think they can control us. The war has been going on after the president was killed. Don't you go to school?" the man said, giving them an even more suspicious glance, "this war has been going on two years after that first affair."

Garfield, looked around him, and pulled himself and Rae away from that man and in a throng of middle-aged women. Finally, he looked at the person who had been nothing but back noise in the crowd until now.

A man was throwing paper to the crowd and yelling. He wore brown pants, and a white shirt. More papers were in his arms and he waved them around his hat askew on his neatly trimmed head. Garfield caught the end of a sentence.

"…possible to take them. The elite can be taken over. Keep your children from school! This education is brainwashing them into soldiers! Protect your loved ones, do not report them, Save the-" he was cut short by a loud bang. A woman screamed from across the crowd.

The noise startled him and he instinctively closed his eyes and lowered his head. When he opened his eyes, he felt something wet on his face. He reached up and looked at his hand; blood. His heart sped up and he knew what had happened before he looked up. A few people around had been splattered as well. The all wiped it away, looks of horror and disgust on their faces in different degrees.

The yelling had stopped, the man now lay on the pavement his head shot open. Blood and what Garfield took for his brain leaked onto the pavement. He felt Rae grab him tightly and he felt faint. Only will and curiosity kept him from passing out at the whirling confusion in his brain.

He could not comprehend what kind of society shot people in public. It seemed almost reminiscent of Nazi Germany and anyone speaking out against the Dictator.

"Anymore like him will be shot. We will not tolerate anyone who opposes the leader…," A military looking man yelled, holding a pistol. It took once glance at the weapon and Garfield became aware of the looks he and Rae were getting and of how strangely they were dressed for their current position. Slowly he pulled her away and into an alley. The streets were crowded as people stood and looked on at the gruesome site of the man's slaying.

"Gar…what?" She asked, her voice scared. He had small speck of blood on her and he knelt, taking her down with him and wiped it off her pale cheek. He was quiet and took a steadying breath, holding it until his lungs felt like they were going to burst.

"I don't know… the man said it was years into the war…but Pearl Harbour isn't for another two years the States wasn't a part of the Common Wealth's war on the Nazi regime…." he mumbled to himself, and Rae stared forward, looking at the edge of the crowd around the corner of a brick building.

A child ran by, and Garfield called him over. Another small boy about ten looking followed and a little girl trailed after him. They all were dressed to suit the era and had a look of hungry curiosity that Garfield knew had something to do with the sight in the street.

"Hey kid, how did this war start?" The boy who looked to be about twelve took a step back. He looked at the two kneeling teens and their clothing. The girl blushed as Garfield looked at her and the little boy behind the oldest of the trio.

"You should be off fighting, like all the other older boys," The little girl said, she looked about eight and held a doll. Her dress was blue and had grass stain across the front; there was a leaf in her plaited red hair and a tooth missing from her smile.

"Why should I tell you?" Asked the first boy, folding his arms. He tried to look grown up and the other little boy looked at him with some small kid hero admiration.

"I'll give you a dollar," Garfield bargained. The children's faces lit up and they relaxed visibly. Garfield smiled at the infallibility of childhood greed and easy persuasions.

"The president was killed…and these men took over, saying everything had to be fixed." The boy stated, clearly wishing to earn his dollar. Garfield sighed at the vagueness and pried on.

"Why is the United States fighting Britain?" He asked looking around scared someone would hear them. His gut told him to remain in the shadows, at least while asking these kids questions.

Rae and him had barely escaped death before, they may never be so lucky again. After seeing that man shot in cold blood, he was not eager to be next.

"Britain claims that we're like that man…the one with the funny haircut, but we're not, we are right and they are just wrong and we'll beat 'em good!" The other boy said, smiling an impish grin doused in patriotic pride that only a child can have in their world of good and evil, superheroes and villains.

"Thanks…" He gave them the slip of paper money and watched them for a moment. As they crowded and around and stared at the dollar bill.

"Mister, we don't want play money," the little girl said, handing it back to him after a moment. He looked down and took a deep breath. He only had current money.

"Oh…um…" he searched his pockets and looked around. He was about to mumble a badly constructed explanation when Rae handed the children a two coins. He had not even noticed she had let go of his hand.

"Here, sorry about my friend here, he is a bit silly," She smiled and the kids ran off. Laughing at their newfound riches.

"How, what?" asked Garfield looking at the children's path and her. He realised the coins had just saved them from a scene but he had little time to dwell. Currently he was trying to pull something out of the simple answers to his interrogation of the children.

"Found them, behind this trash bag," she pointed with her free hand, "you should know your money is no good here…" He looked at her and sighed at their luck. If he had not those kids may have gone screaming to their mothers and then he had a feeling all hell would have broken loose upon his female companion and him.

"Yeah, thanks…" He looked down in concentration, biting his lip in an old habit.

"So…can you figure out where we are?" She asked, squeezing his hand, and looking at him. She was still smiling but he could tell she was afraid. He was too, after seeing someone shot, he thought they were holding up quite well.

"From what I got…I think we're someone where the US president has been replaced by a Hitler-style dictator and now the United States is fighting Britain and the Nazi Germany…" He said, trying to sort out the facts as he said them.

She looked at him funny, the War had obviously not happened in her time, at least not the way his had. Given that on August fourth in her time stream or whatever it was, Einstein had destroyed the bomb plans it made sense for her to be confused.

"Something from my time. I need to find more information, c'mon." He moved with her out of the alley and they walked down the street as indiscreetly as they could. Both looking around trying to not attract attention.

Garfield had calmed down enough to start looking for a library or some other source of information when a pair of hands grabbed him from behind. Rae gave a yelp and Garfield turned and saw he being held by a many in a General's uniform.

A black car, looking like it belonged in a car show back in Garfield's era had pulled up behind them. Garfield tried to pull away but froze when his captor spoke. The voice was cold and hardened.

"Please step into the car."

* * *

Hope that was a little more exciting than the last chapter. 


End file.
